Smile Like You Mean It
by Viola Durant
Summary: Smile Pip, smile like you mean it. Edit: I've turned this into a one-shot, sorry I didn't know how to continue it


**Disclaimer: If at something point during this story you start to wonder "Does this crazy bitch own this?" The answer is sadly no. If I did do you really think I'd be writing a fan fiction?**

I'm on fire; I'm being sawed in half. Run over by a truck, stabbed repeatedly. A monster is clawing it's way out of my chest. I, Pip Pirrup, am exploding in a haze of fireworks.

I can no longer separate the laughter of the demons from my classmates. But what does it matter anyway? Because my best friend just set me on fire and no cares.

I've taken all the beatings, and being mocked for my British accent with a smile. With just one thought in my head "Smile Pip, smile like you mean it. Then maybe this time they'll stop. Maybe this time they'll be your friend." But they don't. Every day it's the same cycle of events, get called a faggy frog, get pushed to the ground, and then get spit on in the eye. So what does it matter anyways?

No, it doesn't matter. So I'll just close my eyes and wait for the end.

* * *

" Pip...Pip wake up!" I'm trying, I want to tell them, but I can't seem to find my mouth. In fact, I can't find myself. Oh dear, that can't be good. "Pip you fucking frog get up!" I groan feebly "I'm not French." There is nothing I hate more then being called French, nothing. A hand grabs me by the shoulder and roughly pulls me up. My eyes flutter open only to see something that makes my wish I'd kept them closed. Cartman.

My chest burns, a lot. I look down to see a giant hole in my red jumper and my shirt. Revealing the burnt skin beneath. "I-I think I'm in rather need of a doctor" Cartman rolls his eyes "Like I give a fuck, get off of my yard Frenchie." Then quickly releases me from his hold, as though he fears contamination and walks off.

"I'm not French..."

* * *

I need a doctor, it hurts. I need a doctor. Why doesn't anybody understand this? I drag my feet towards my house. Its cold, I'm cold.

Just got to get home, just keep walking got to get home. I repeat to myself. Just keep walking, just get home. But I can't, my body doesn't want to move anymore. And really what's the point? I can go home to a sister who doesn't love me or want me. To the place where my parents died and left me in this town filled with awful people. What's the point of going where you're not wanted? But truth be told I'm not wanted anywhere, not even in my beloved London was I wanted. And I'm so tired. Tired of everything, tired of life itself. Not even my best friend liked me. It's probably my fault, everything is my fault. The death of my parents, my sister's unhappiness it's all my fault I deserve everything I'm getting. And he got picked on for being my friend. Yes, that must be why he left me. He didn't even say goodbye.

Cheer up old chap I try to tell myself. But I know it's no good because no matter what I tell myself, how many times I cheer up it's always the same. Nothing ever changes.

My whole body is numbing with cold. But that's quite alright; it's making that horrid burning in my chest go away. I think I'll sit down for a bit. The snow is so soft and beautiful. It's pure unlike the snow in London. The only thing I like about this little mountain town is it's beauty. Odd how no one else seems to realize how gorgeous this place is. Just like how no one realizes that I want nothing more to be accepted. To be loved.

Me and the snow have a lot in common. Everyone hates it, everyone hates me. Except the difference is that I deserve their hate. I think I'll lie down here, possibly take a quick nap. Right-o a nap is all I need. Maybe I'll wake up to find this has all been a rather nasty dream. Yes, that's it, it's all a dream, and tomorrow you'll wake up to find that Da- no don't say the name, it's too painful to think of _him_ just yet.

Just go to sleep Pip, go to sleep and never wake up.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Whoo! My first story! Poor Pip, Damien's an arse. Reviews are loved they'll help me write faster. And don't worry Pip will be back to his upbeat self at some point. But I imagine your best friend turning you into a firework might fuck you up in the head a little bit._


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